


New Embers

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, no beta we die like jet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: “It’s not a plan,” he emphasizes again. “It’s never been -- I mean . . . It’s just a thought. Something to . . . I don’t know, entertain myself, I guess.”They both know what this is about now. There’s no pretending it’s something else. Still, Sokka can’t help how his eyes widen and his tone comes out incredulous. As much as he wants to be calm and supportive, he almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.In the silence that follows, Sokka stares up at the clear sky and swears on Tui and La both -- and Yue, fuck it, as blasphemous as it feels -- that Zuko is gonna get therapy after all this, even if Sokka has to drag him there himself.--Or:  Zuko has a lot of demons and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sokka stumbles across him and decides he's going to help.Please heed the tags. This could possibly be rated T, but I'd rather rate too high than too low.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 886
Collections: AtLA <10k fics to read





	New Embers

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> Zuko explicitly deals with self harm (the act itself is not shown, but the aftermath is) and suicidal ideation in this fic. Sokka reminisces a bit about his own death-based trauma. Please proceed with caution.
> 
> There's a mention of the headcanon that Zuko can't hear or see very well on his left side because of his injury.
> 
> Finally, the title is from one of my favourite feel-good songs, "Ember" by Owl City.

Sokka first sees the glint of light. It’s faint and far away, but he knows too well what moonlight glinting off a blade looks like.

He wasn’t sleeping anyway, so he grabs what he can as silently as possible and keeps to the shadows, eyes trained on where the light came from. There’s a figure there, a stark outline against the moon, but he can’t see any details from this distance.

The second thing he notices is that Zuko is gone, and so are his swords. Everyone else is accounted for, fast asleep around the fire pit. Sokka doesn’t relax right away. It could mean that Zuko couldn’t sleep either and left -- to clear his head or to do something productive, perhaps -- or it could mean that Zuko discovered a threat and went alone to handle it. The thought that Zuko might have just left, finally acting on some plan he had all along to stab them in the back one more time, doesn’t even occur to Sokka. The thought that someone might have grabbed Zuko right out from under them does, but the list of people who would take a banished Fire Nation prince and leave the Avatar behind was a small one. Toph should have felt them coming anyway.

Sokka keeps his sword in its sheath, but keeps one hand on it, as he goes to check it out. Hopefully, it’s nothing. The figure hasn’t moved. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him and it’s just a shrub or something.

He descends into the forest, following the path but walking just inside the tree line, keeping an ear out for the slightest noise out of place. The path forks several times, but he knows where he’s going. There’s only one easy way to get to the top of the hill where he saw the glint of light, but it does take some time.

Sokka thinks that this is probably stupid. The Fire Nation isn’t known for its stealth, after all. Their most common tactic is to overwhelm their enemies with force. They would have likely heard them coming a mile away. But again, he wasn’t sleeping anyway, and he’d rather be safe than sorry.

The path winds up the hill erratically. Sokka does his best to follow it, but it’s much less defined the higher he gets. He has to hop up to peer over the flat top and is met with the sight of Zuko sitting crosslegged, likely meditating. His swords are on the ground beside him. He hasn’t noticed Sokka approaching.

Sokka hauls himself up and approaches cautiously. “Zuko?”

Immediately, Zuko is on his feet, assuming a stance Sokka knows too well. He takes a step back cautiously, but no fire is shot his way. This close up, Sokka can see clearly how some, but not all, of the tension in Zuko’s shoulders relaxes as he straightens up.

“Sokka?” Zuko says, surprised and a little irritated. “I almost fried you.”

“But you didn’t,” Sokka responds cheerfully. “That’s progress!”

Zuko huffs and sits back down, facing the same way he was before Sokka interrupted. “What do you want?”

Sokka opens his mouth to say something -- that he doesn’t want anything, that he saw someone up here and was checking it out, that he noticed Zuko was missing and got worried, who really knows what he was going to say? But something else catches his eye in the moonlight: Red red blood dripping down Zuko’s arm and staining the grass in front of him.

Sokka steps forward without thinking, a million questions in his head but first and foremost  _ What happened? _ and  _ Who did this?  _ He scans the area and notices no charred ground, no blood anywhere else, nothing that would suggest a fight happened here. Not to mention the fact that Zuko seems awfully calm.

Sokka slows and stops, taking stock of Zuko’s injuries -- only one cut on each arm, it seems, mirroring each other -- and the blades still sitting next to him. If he squints, Sokka can imagine he sees the faintest trail of blood there too, but it’s probably in his head. The puzzle pieces slide into place in his brain, and all at once, the air is knocked from his lungs.

He came here half expecting a fight. A fight he can handle, but this? He’s not equipped for this, but if he doesn’t handle it, who will? Toph trusted Zuko first, but she’s the least tactful of all of them. Katara would know what to do, but she still hates Zuko’s guts. Sokka wouldn’t be surprised if she ignored the problem altogether, or even laughed in his face and made some coldhearted quip. Aang would probably know how to handle it, but Sokka already knows that Zuko doesn’t respond well to Aang’s brand of encouragement. Tao? The Duke? Haru? No, fuck that, Sokka’s here now, and he’s the only one he can picture having this talk.

Which is . . . really sad.

“Zuko, you’re -- “ he starts. Zuko jumps and looks over his shoulder like he’d forgotten Sokka was there.

“You’re still here?” Well, that answers that. Sokka doesn’t miss how Zuko’s hand runs down his arm, like he’s pushing down a sleeve that isn’t there.

“Yeah. Sorry. Would it be better if, um.” Sokka’s had his suspicions, but he hasn’t seen enough to confirm or deny them. And he sure as hell isn’t going to straight-up ask. He moves to Zuko’s other side, crossing in front of him so he doesn’t startle him again, and sits on Zuko’s right. “Is this better?”

Zuko gives him a look that Sokka can’t parse. “Yes. Thank you.”

Sokka shrugs it off. It’s still not a confirmation, but Sokka keeps it in mind to try to approach Zuko from his right side from now on.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “You’re bleeding.”

The tension is back tenfold, but Zuko’s voice doesn’t waver. “Yes.” It’s almost a challenge.

Sokka pats his side and, yes, he did bring his first aid pack. He hasn’t had much use for it recently, since Katara learned that she can heal with her magic water, but it’ll do. “Can I. Um. Help with that? I have gauze and -- “

And it’s definitely not in Sokka’s imagination that Zuko flinches, almost imperceptibly. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he bites, but it’s not anger in his voice.

Sokka just nods and pulls the bandages and some ointment from his pouch, placing it between them like a peace offering. “Look, you don’t have to talk about it -- “

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But if this is about punishing yourself -- “

“And what do you know about it?” Zuko is shouting now, but not looking at Sokka directly. He’s instead staring directly in front of him, where his blood has soaked into the ground. “You don’t know me! Don’t pretend like you care!”

Sokka just sighs and reaches out cautiously, gently touching his fingers to the back of Zuko’s fist. “Don’t do that. It’ll make the bleeding worse.”

Zuko stands, his posture stiff and defensive. “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Sokka asks, genuinely confused.

“Stop -- just -- !” Zuko makes a noise somewhere between a scream and a growl, and a little bit of steam comes out of his nose with it. Sokka can’t help but notice how his eyes are shining. “Get angry or upset or -- or just leave!”

“Why?” Sokka demands. He can feel irritation rising in his chest as he stands, but does his best to tamp it down. “So we can both focus on me instead? Zuko,” he almost laughs, “I’m not judging you, and I’m not asking you to stop. I’m just asking you to let me help. If you really want me to leave, I will. But I’m here, so you might as well use me.”

Zuko is like a skittish animal with stuff like this -- like  _ emotions _ and  _ trauma _ . Sokka knew this already, but the way Zuko is poised right now, the look on his face, like he might bolt if Sokka makes any moves, are particularly reminiscent of a spooked fire ferret.

Abruptly, Sokka wonders how long this has been going on. He resists the urge to glance down and look for scars littered along Zuko’s forearms, but he wonders if Zuko’s uncle knew about this, and how he handled it, if he did. Zuko clearly cares for Iroh a lot, but Sokka never really knew the man. From what little Sokka has seen, he seemed wise and kind. Sokka tries to emulate that.

“You’re right. I don’t know you very well,” he concedes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m just . . . not very good about saying it. So,” Sokka straightens up with a new conviction, “You can tell me all about yourself while I fix you up. If you want.”

Zuko hesitates for a long moment. He doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t lash out or run either. “A question for a question?” he offers tentatively. “I mean -- “

“Yeah!” Sokka agrees enthusiastically. He plops back down on the ground and gestures for Zuko to sit in front of him.

After another moment of consideration, Zuko sighs and sits. He crosses his arms across his chest, and Sokka deflates just a little bit. “Me first,” he grumbles. “You were one of the first to trust me to join you. Why?”

Sokka takes a deep breath. Getting right to it, then, huh? “To tell you the truth, I didn’t. Not really. But Toph said you were telling the truth, and I trust Toph. Besides, it took a lot of guts to come up to us like that. I couldn’t imagine you would put yourself in that position just to  _ get us _ or whatever.”

Zuko thinks on it and nods, like that was a satisfactory answer.

“Cool,” Sokka says. “May I see your arms?”

Zuko holds them out hesitantly. Sokka immediately, but gently, pulls one closer to get a better look, and yeah, there’s a number of faint scars crisscrossed across Zuko’s arm, some fresher than others and one or two still scabbed over. Holding his wrist in his hand, it seems too thin. Has Zuko lost weight, or was he always this skinny? Sokka knows for a fact that Zuko is pretty beefy for someone their age, so he doesn’t dwell on it too much.

Instead, he languishes the fact that his waterskin wasn’t one of the random things he grabbed on his way out here and gets to work.

“This is going to sting,” he warns, dipping his fingers into the jar of ointment before dragging it along the cut. It’s not bleeding as badly anymore, but it’s still bad -- long and deep and still definitely diagonal but vertical enough to be concerning. From his brief catalogue, Sokka can tell these are going to be among the worst scars. His stomach churns, for a number of reasons, but he tries not to show it.

“It’s your turn again, by the way,” he says, reaching for the gauze.

“What?”

“I asked to see your arms. It’s your turn.”

Zuko rolls his eyes and relaxes just the slightest bit. Sokka marks it as a small win. “Do you trust me now?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

The answer seems to shock Zuko, who stares at him, his good eye wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, man. You’ve made some mistakes, sure, but I’d trust you with my life.”

Zuko seems stunned. He doesn’t say anything but lets out his breath in a  _ whoosh _ . He’s still staring when Sokka moves to dress his other arm.

“My turn. What would you have done if we hadn’t let you join us? What was plan B?” Sokka asks as lightly as he can manage. He suspects he knows the answer.

Zuko still looks shocked, then vulnerable for the briefest second, before schooling his expression into something mostly neutral.

“I didn’t have one. I was staking everything on being able to teach Aang firebending.”

Sokka doesn’t need Toph to tell him that it’s a lie. At least by technicality.

“You didn’t even have an inkling of an idea, in case this didn’t work out?”

Zuko picks at the grass with his free hand. He’s steadfastly not looking at him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”

Sokka can read between the lines. His heart sinks.

“Zuko -- “

“My turn.” Zuko wrenches his arm out of Sokka’s grasp the moment he ties off the gauze, wincing as it inevitably pulls on the cut. “Why did you come up here tonight?”

“I saw someone up here and noticed that you were missing,” Sokka answers quickly and easily. “I got worried.”

“Why did you stay?”

“Zuko, what were you going to do if we didn’t let you join us?”

“Wait -- “

“It’s my turn. What were you going to do?”

“I told you, I didn’t  _ have _ a plan -- !”

“Then what were you considering?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It  _ does _ !”

“I’m not answering that.” Zuko’s voice sounds choked, just the slightest bit. He’s shaking too, but from anger or something else, Sokka can’t be sure.

“Fine.  _ Why _ were you considering it?” Sokka tries to pull off the soft but determined expression he’s seen Katara use before. Zuko glares at him but eventually deflates, so Sokka guesses it works.

“It’s not a  _ plan _ ,” he emphasizes again. “It’s never been -- I mean . . . It’s just a thought. Something to . . . I don’t know, entertain myself, I guess.”

They both know what this is about now. There’s no pretending it’s something else. Still, Sokka can’t help how his eyes widen and his tone comes out incredulous. As much as he wants to be calm and supportive, he almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Almost.

“To  _ entertain yourself _ ? Like it’s some kind of -- of fantasy you can escape to?”

Zuko’s silence is icy and deafening. Sokka tries to collect his emotions and -- what? Put them in a neat little box to shove down for now? Whatever. He tries to pull himself together and opens his mouth to say something when Zuko speaks again, almost too softly to hear, but the night is too still to drown it out.

“Every time I think things can’t get worse, they do. So, yeah. I like to think there’s an escape.”

“Zuko -- “

“I don’t want to live in a world where my father wins, okay?” he snaps, and that’s the same something Sokka heard in his voice before. Desperation. “That doesn’t mean I won’t fight! O-or that I won’t do what it takes to stop him! I’ll be there to the end, even if I have to die fighting, but . . . “

“But . . . ?” This was good. Well, what Zuko was saying wasn’t good, but the fact that he was opening up was. Has he ever been able to talk about this?

“But . . . I don’t know what comes after this. If my father wins, it’s all over. For everyone. There’s no more chances. I’d rather die in that fight then see what happens to the world after. But if Aang defeats him . . . “

Zuko trails off again. Sokka doesn’t let himself think twice before leaning forward and placing his hand on his shoulder. Zuko jumps at the touch, startled, but doesn’t shove him off. He has a look on his face like he’s on the brink of some realization, but it’s just out of reach. Then it’s Sokka’s turn to be surprised when Zuko places his hand on top of his.

His hand is so warm. Of course it is, he’s a firebender, after all, but for some reason, Sokka wasn’t expecting it, and it jars something loose in his chest. The thought that some day Zuko’s hands will be the same icy cold as his mother’s, that Zuko  _ wants _ them that way . . . well, losing Zuko would be awful for a lot of reasons, but imagining the lively heat there being replaced with a deathly chill makes it too real.

_ That _ is definitely something he’s shoving down to avoid thinking about, probably forever. He’s haunted by enough ghosts.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says softly. “I know I’m not making sense. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Sokka shrugged in feigned nonchalance. “It’s okay. This is heavy stuff, and saying out loud can make it feel -- “

“Real. Yeah.”

In the silence that follows, Sokka stares up at the clear sky and swears on Tui and La both -- and Yue, fuck it, as blasphemous as it feels -- that Zuko is gonna get therapy after all this, even if Sokka has to drag him there himself.

He cleared his throat again just to break the silence. “Listen. We’ve established that I’m not good with this kind of stuff, but I still . . . I want to be there for you, whenever you need me. Especially right now. So, I . . . you -- you can say no, of course, but it would make me feel better, and I think it would help you too.”

Zuko blinks at him warily. “What would?”

“Um. Sleep with me? I mean!” Sokka’s eyes widen in horror at the implication, and he flounders. “I mean literally! Actually, uh, unconscious. Next to each other. Or just in the same room, away from the others. Ah dammit, that’s not better. I just mean that I, uh . . . I’m worried about you? Obviously. And it would give me some peace of mind for tonight.”

The look Zuko gives him is positively catowlish. “Really? You’d do all that?”

“Of course, and don’t you forget it. What have I said tonight that gives you the impression that I  _ don’t  _ care about you? We all do, but I thought . . . maybe you don’t want the others to know about this? I mean, it seemed like you didn’t want me to either, but . . . here we are.” He couldn’t help but laugh a little nervously.

Zuko doesn’t answer immediately. He grabs Sokka’s hand, still squeezing his shoulder, and for a moment, Sokka is worried that he overstepped, that Zuko is going to refuse and Sokka will just have to stay up all night to make sure Zuko doesn’t do something drastic. But Zuko just holds his hand as he stands, pulling Sokka up with it.

He doesn’t immediately let go. Neither does Sokka.

“Okay. We can use one of the rooms inside the temple. If -- if that’s alright.”

“Sure thing,” Sokka agrees, maybe a little too enthusiastically. A majority of his focus is on their hands. Zuko’s grasp is a little tight, so Sokka just squeezes back and leads them back down the trail. He refuses to be the one who lets go first.

**Author's Note:**

> Crisis Text Line: www.crisistextline.org/  
> Crisis Chat: www.contact-usa.org/chat.html  
> Trevor Hotline: 1-866-488-73867 / 1-866-4-U-TREVOR  
> S.A.F.E. (Self Abuse Finally Ends) Hotline: 1-800-366-8288 / 1-800-DONT-CUT  
> Suicide Hotline 1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433)  
>  1-800-273-TALK (8255)  
> Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-827-7571  
> Deaf Hotline 1-800-799-4TTY
> 
> I hit my sixth year clean recently, or "No-Hurty Day," as my friends call it. There are still bad days, though, and I wrote this at 3am on my phone on one of those days, because that's my best coping mechanism currently. If you're reading this and struggle with self-harm or suicidal thoughts, it gets so much easier, I promise.


End file.
